


Wildflowers

by borkybarnes



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-Battle of Sokovia, Sokovia, father figure clint, slight scarletvision
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 11:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14617428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borkybarnes/pseuds/borkybarnes
Summary: There was a field a few miles outside of the capital where wildflowers grew. They bloomed in shades of red, pink, purple, blue, every color of the rainbow. In midsummer, they would open up, petal by petal.Wanda gripped the steering wheel tightly. The drive from the airport was like a maze she remembered perfectly. She knew every curve and dip of the road, every pothole she hit, every tree she passed. She knew where she was going.





	Wildflowers

_ There was a field a few miles outside of the capital where wildflowers grew. They bloomed in shades of red, pink, purple, blue, every color of the rainbow. In midsummer, they would open up, petal by petal. _

 

Wanda gripped the steering wheel tightly. The drive from the airport was like a maze she remembered perfectly. She knew every curve and dip of the road, every pothole she hit, every tree she passed. She knew where she was going.

 

The capital was gone, thanks to Ultron and its (she refused to say ‘his’) disposable minions. Her home was decimated, destroyed, totaled. 

 

But the field was not.

 

_ “Come on, Wanda! God, you’re so slow!” Pietro sprinted up the side of the hill. He held a wicker basket in hand, swinging it as he walked the last few steps, settling at the top of the hill.  _

 

Vision gave Wanda a sidelong look. “Are you sure you’re ready to do this?”

 

Wanda grimaced and nodded. “We’re here, aren’t we.” In the rear view mirror, she glanced at Clint, who sat in the back with an urn in his lap. He rubbed her shoulder soothingly, the way a father would.

 

“He’s smiling down on you, kid,” Clint said.

 

Wanda kept her eyes forward. The sun was beginning to set.

 

_ “You know,” Pietro said, “I want to be buried right here.” _

 

_ “We’re nine years old.” Wanda said, “Death shouldn’t be on your mind right now.” _

 

_ “Yeah, yeah,” Pietro said, waving her off. They laid on their backs, and Pietro rolled over to face her. “You have to promise me, though. Bring me back here, under this tree. Okay?” _

 

_ He picked a wildflower from the ground and handed it to her. “It’s a promise flower,” he said.  _

 

_ Wanda blinked back her tears and accepted the plant. “Alright… but, why here?” _

 

_ Pietro stared up at the sky and said, “It’s quiet in the field.” _

 

They came to the field, and Wanda parked the car. The field looked the exact same, untouched by Ultron. The wildflowers were in full bloom –– arrays of red, pink, purple, blue. Just like when she was a child. 

 

They walked up the side of the hill. Vision held one of Wanda’s hands, Clint the other. The sun’s shining face was dipping behind the horizon. Wanda sighed. Pietro loved this time.

 

_ Pietro sat up against the trunk of the tree, Wanda following suit. Pietro slung an arm around her shoulder, and she rested her weight on him. “Where do you want to be laid to rest, sister?” _

 

_ “I haven’t thought about it…”  Wanda stared at the rapidly disappearing sun. “I don’t  _ want  _ to think about it.” _

 

_ Pietro opened the picnic basket and handed Wanda a sandwich, taking the other for himself. He smiled at her and kissed the top of her head. “We don’t need to talk about it anymore…” _

 

_ “Thank you, Pietro.” _

 

Clint handed her the urn, and she unscrewed the lid slowly. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tipped the urn slightly and shook it softly. Soft gray ash landed on the ground, on the roots of the tree. 

 

She took a deep breath and emptied the urn a tiny bit more before sealing it shut once more. She knelt to the ground, at the pile of ashes, and pulled the flower from her pocket. It was fragile, worn and dried from time. 

 

Placing it on top of the pile, Wanda scooped up soil in her hands and poured it over the ash and flower. She said, “I did it, Pietro.” Tears welled in her eyes.

 

A breeze came, and the flowers bent to its will. If she listened hard enough, she could hear Pietro’s laugh and the softest whisper of, “Thank you, Wanda.”


End file.
